Diplomacy
by Flatkatsi
Summary: Jack teaches his team a lesson in diplomacy.


Diplomacy

* * *

"Eeuww...that is so not something I want to see on my dinner plate."

Colonel O'Neill stared down at the cook pot simmering over the open fire. Ten hairy legs were visible on the surface of the thick black liquid, still moving - seemingly struggling to escape certain death.

Major Carter's eyes followed his gaze. "Oh God, Daniel. Tell me that we don't have to eat that!" Just the thought turned her a little green in the face.

"Wait a sec, guys - I'll check with the Chief." Daniel turned to the elaborately dressed elder beside him and began to communicate in, what to Jack seemed to be a series of guttural sounds like someone about to throw up. Maybe he's already had the first course, the Colonel thought ruefully. He waited as patiently as he could for Daniel to find out the answer. Even Teal'c was looking at the pot in trepidation. They all watched as the large legs slowly gave up the fight and sunk beneath the surface.

"Ah - Jack." Daniel's voice recalled Jack's attention to the figures on the other side of the fire.

"Yes, Daniel?" He fixed a gracious smile on his face and leant forward, nodding towards the circle of elders as he did so. "Please tell me this is the meal for those rather large dogs I saw as we came into the village. Ours is cooking somewhere else, isn't it, Daniel."

"Ah - that would be 'No'. Sorry. Actually, you are partly right. Our meal is being prepared elsewhere. Only the leaders' meals have the honor of being cooked here at the central fire."

The Colonel relaxed slightly. A thin green sheen had formed on the surface of the black liquid - the sort of green that he associated with decomposition and TV programs like CSI.

"Okay - so the Chief gets to eat this stuff and we get to have what? Hamburgers, tacos?"

Daniel swallowed. His eyes shifted to the rest of his team, searching for support. He could see the realization grow in Sam's eyes.

"Jack. It's like this. The leaders partake of this dish. It is a great delicacy only prepared for the most important occasions. Both the village chief and the leader of the visiting tribe share the meal, eating together from the same pot, to symbolize their accord."

Jack sat back, his smile struggling to stay on his lips. Speaking through gritted teeth, he kept his voice as friendly sounding as he could. He was well aware that all around his team there was a circle of very interested, well-armed warriors. "Tell them that I have a food allergy, Daniel. An allergy to any food with more than four legs. Or tell them that eating in public is against my religious beliefs. Anything, Daniel. Tell them anything." Despite his best efforts, his voice had begun to take on a note of desperation.

"I can't." Daniel spoke hurriedly. He could see the frown appearing on the brow of the Chief as he waited for his strange visitors to complete their business. "It would be a terrible insult. I doubt that we would be allowed to leave the village alive. They would see it as confirmation that we are untrustworthy."

Jack shivered. He looked to his right, seeing the familiar figures of Carter and Teal'c waiting patiently. He knew that whatever he decided they would back him.

He also knew what he would have to do.

"Tell the Chief that I would be honored to join him in this meal. To cement our friendship and in the hope that we will continue to enjoy many other occasions such as this with our new allies."

When the Colonel's words were translated, the Chief relaxed, smiling. He called for a servant and SG-1 watched as a small metal spoon was handed to him with great ceremony.

"I only have to have a taste, right?" The Colonel could not tear his eyes from the bubbling pot.

"Sorry. You get to share the whole thing. Right down to the bottom." Even Daniel was beginning to look sick.

"I somehow knew that you were going to say that. Had to be. What else. That great cosmic joke is being played on Colonel Jack O'Neill yet again." Jack took the proffered utensil from the gnarled hands of the Chief. "And don't tell me - I get to have first go."

Without waiting for an answer he bent forward and scooped a spoonful of liquid from the pot, before swallowing it as quickly as he could.

The taste was indescribable. It blanked from his mind those truly awful grubs he had survived on in a nameless jungle. Even the haggis he had eaten in Scotland faded into an almost fond memory.

With a smile, he handed the spoon back across the fire.

He could see the looks of concern on his teams' faces. "No problem, guys. I've eaten worse." The lie was easy - the next spoonful wasn't.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Thanks again, Chief. Sorry we can't stay longer this visit. Maybe next time." Jack smiled as Daniel translated his words to the elderly man. With a friendly wave, he led his way into the blue shimmering surface of the wormhole.

"Oh My God!" As soon as the Colonel's feet hit the ramp on the other side he fell to his knees, clutching his middle. The rest of SG-1 watched in dismay as he emptied the contents of his stomach across the metal grating. The resulting smell resembled a cross between dirty sneakers after a marathon run and something that a dog would dig up in the garden.

"Medical team to the embarkation room." The announcement had barely finished before Doctor Fraiser was crouched next to the Colonel. He was still vomiting and had begun to shake, his face white.

"What is it?" The doctor could see what looked like pieces of spider legs, several inches in length swimming in a sea of thick goo. "Did he eat something?"

Sam's voice came from several feet away. "Yes, Janet. He had to eat some sort of soup. It was part of a ceremony." Her voice was muffled as she held her hand across her mouth and nose.

"He seemed alright. He said that it wasn't too bad." Daniel looked horrified, watching as his best friend continued to heave. He too had retreated to the far wall.

"Could you not tell that O'Neill was lying, Daniel Jackson? It was obvious to me that he only managed to complete the task because of the risk to us if he did not." Teal'c knelt next to the Colonel, ignoring the sights and sounds.

"Help me get him to the infirmary, Teal'c." Janet watched as the large Jaffa effortlessly picked up Jack and placed him on the waiting gurney. They left the gate room at a run.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"It was extremely toxic, Sir. You were lucky you came back to the SGC as quickly as you did after eating it. If you had waited any longer it would have eaten through your stomach lining and we wouldn't have been able to repair the damage."

The Colonel lay in the infirmary bed, tubes sticking out of every orifice. He was still pale, even after several days of treatment. His hands trembled as he weakly shifted his position slightly against the pillows. Daniel and Sam both moved to help him at the same time, only managing to collide with each other in their haste.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I had no idea the local leaders had developed an immunity to the poison in the creature." Daniel hurried to explain.

"Yes, Sir. It seems that part of the initiation ceremony for all new chiefs is a regular meal of the dish, growing larger as time progresses. The Chief thought you must have gone through the same procedure to attain your position."

Jack closed his eyes. His stomach clenched just thinking about the meal. It had seemed to take a lifetime to finish, each mouthful worse than the last - if that was possible. The only thought that he had had throughout the whole ordeal was that he would not puke over the Chief. He had a position to uphold and not puking on the local leader was part of the package. So was not falling face first into a simmering pot of spider broth.

"SG-5 has returned to the village and established that as our leader, you would be the only one entitled to the honor of eating the meal again. That's if you return, that is."

Jack opened his eyes and gave Daniel a look that would have curdled milk. "I don't think so." The listeners could barely hear his words, muffled as they were by the feeding tube running down the back of his throat and into his stomach. "But I do know who to send there."

"Who, O'Neill? The Gao'uld?"

"Senator Kinsey, Sir?"

Once again the Colonel's eyes slid shut. The slight spasms running through him only an annoyance as he fought the urge to sleep once more. He managed one last sentence before succumbing.

"The next 'Survivor' contestants."

The End


End file.
